#a lot of exposition in this one...

[savi-our]

Anti-Harem with OP Mage MC pt. 3 ft. Horrortale

Its 3 am- This... this is over 3k words.... I'm both cooking and cooked apparently bc this is even longer and more detailed than the last part, I honestly dont know what came over me. The ending is a bit rushed and im posting this half asleep and barely able to make sense of whether or not any of this is actually good but i wanted to post it before going off to sleep - i do hope you enjoy it though, even if by this point im not sure you can call it an anti harem... maybe ill explore that bit more in the next part.... (p.s. i would love love looove to hear you guy's thoughts on what ive cooked up here so please leave a comment if youre inclined to <3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

It had been a few weeks since the attack on the monster settlement and your work kept you busy. Black and Mutt had both been a welcome new change as far as your experience in monsters went, the three of you seemed to grow closer by the day - sharing the mutual burdens of your job whenever you had any amount of free time. You and Black formed a good professional relationship, often sharing insights on the progress of monster integration into the world outside, and Mutt - albeit avoidant, seemed to develop an interest in watching you whenever he thought you wouldn't notice. He even sometimes visited you whenever his brother had been busy, coming to your office to slump on your couch and waste away his free time, scrolling through his phone and trying not to get caught staring at you while you filed away paperwork.

It was on a particularly early morning that you had arrived at your office, still dazed from your lack of sleep when a new case appeared at your desk. You rarely did personal requests, but this one you could hardly refuse as it had come from one of the joint rulers of the Underground. 

Queen Toriel summoned you, and you listened as she told you her concerns about a particular percentage of her population having an especially difficult time with the integration process. You picked up on the finer details of her request - unspoken words to her plea.

You were aware of the spatial anomaly that had caused the particular brand of chaos that was currently plaguing Monsterkind, a rift that had caused a collision of alternates and pulled them all here. It was a guarded secret among the higher ranking officials, the details shared only to those who were known to be trusted - or to those who were smart enough to see beyond the fragile lie. You were both you supposed, the Archmage themselves requested your insight into the matter, and you offered to consult wherever you could. It didn't surprise you that the Queen turned to you for assistance - involved as you were in the matter.

You agreed to her request, you could hardly refuse considering the high brand on the paperwork, the signature of the Archmage looped in finer print at the corner of the page. You left promptly, assigning a trusted associate of yours to man the office while you were gone, unfortunately the urgency of your task bid no time to waste so you left without notifying the two skeletons that had seemed to be stuck in your orbit as of late, but that was the nature of things when you had such a demanding position.

You were relocated into the depths of the Underground, a rather lavish apartment greeting you in the shadow of the castle of the royal families, but you had little time to waste, the faster you got to work the smoother the integration process would be.

You met with those currently overseeing the progress of the whole thing, a joint department consisting of monsters, humans and mages - social workers, professors, doctors, therapists and volunteers - all with ample experience concerning the more particular quirks that came with joining cultures and assessing risks where there were any. Your status would do you more harm than good here - you realize early on, advised by the royal court to take a more personal approach as you shed down your heavy coats and branded insignias - monsters in the underground were still rather wary of mages, especially ones as infamous as you. You took on the faux position of a well renowned inspector, and set yourself to figuring out what the problem was and how best to solve it.

It was there that you met them, two new yet rather familiar faces that were introduced to you as the spokespersons for the rebuffed population, Twilight and Dusk by name. 

Twilight was large, even by monster standards, a lean silhouette that towered over any others in the room with a set of jagged teeth and a weathered look to his eyes. His appearance however, seemed to be rather misleading. He was friendly, overly so, extending his hand to you in his introduction as he shook yours with a controlled precision, his crooked grin lifted, delighted to meet a new face among the many who were already so familiar over his long stay in the program. He was chatty, friendly even, a social butterfly that delighted in telling you about the many state of affairs that flitted about the establishment. There were some quirks however… every now and again he confused words, voiced idioms that you could hardly make sense of - something about frisbees. He had ticks, nervous habits and moments of sudden cautious anxiety that brought concerns to your mind, there were times where he seemed almost manic, a rattling in his bones as he flitted about the room as if trying to burn off excess magic, trying to keep his hands and mind occupied.

Then there was Dusk. Like his brother he was considerably larger than the average monster. He was bulkier, bigger, an imposing presence in the room that set even your nerves on edge. He seemed dangerous, more than any of the other monsters you've come across, something in your mind whispered caution as you introduced yourself. The best word you could use to describe Dusk was heavy, both literally and metaphorically. He dragged his words as if he practically pulled them from the depths of his mind, his movements were slow, weighed almost by some unforeseen force you could not comprehend, and every now and again he lost focus, a single red eyelight dilated and staring promptly into nothing. His mind was both sharp and slow at the same time, he often shared insights that were surprising in their outside perspective, he commented on things that others had passed by in their expertise - drawing attention to underlying issues that had been overlooked due to the fact that nobody had really thought of them as issues before he made comment. He had a finer eye for detail, but at the same time there were moments where he'd lose his train of thought, a byproduct of his severe head wound no doubt, words forgotten on the tip of his tongue - moments like those seemed frustrate him quite badly, his fingers pulled on his one blank eye socket in quiet irritation. On his better days he'd make offhanded puns that were rather dark in theme - cannibalism seemed to be a favorite of his. On his bad days his voice turned cold, words sharp as his grin pulled on his face almost maniacally, he was tense, guarded like a cornered dog ready to bare teeth.

It had taken you some time to get situated in your new environment, you spent your days meeting with the other monsters who shared similar ailments to both Twilight and Dusk, consulting with the people directly responsible for their integration process and finding correlations between things that worked best and those that didn't work at all. A common pattern in all of those monsters became clear days after your assignment, the heightened cases of sudden anxiety and panic attacks. It was odd to you for some reason, it wouldn't be unnatural for this particular batch of alternates to suffer from such things, considering what you knew they had gone through back in their own reality, but something about it seemed odd.

You investigated your suspicions further, repeatedly meeting monsters and doctors alike, questioning them about the intricacies of their ailments, trying to garner light on the plausible cause for the widespread issue. Twilight seemed eager to help you, he often accompanied you in your search for more information, more knowledge, and his assistance proved quite useful - when you questioned him as to why he seemed so willing to assist you, he responded with an abashed admission - a want to help the monsters who were struggling most finally see the light of day, to taste the fresh air of the outside world, they had been stuck underground for too long. He often stayed with you after hours, organizing papers and research as you delved into the mystery with a hyper focused obsessiveness. You found you always became like this, obsessive over things you could not define or explain, it was that part of you that had helped you rise in power as fast as you had, starved for answers, eager to explore and redefine the things unknown to you- it was almost nostalgic in a way.

 Twilight had a talent for filling blanks in your knowledge, unfamiliar territory as this was he often offered you more insight in the particularities of monster illnesses and behavioral patterns that you were not privy to. You often asked him for clarifications and added depth to your research and he provided them eagerly - either through his own knowledge or systematically organized interviews and research papers that were color coordinated and alphabetized neatly on your desk. He had a knack for organization that one, but you couldn't help but notice how his expression soured whenever he had to bend to lift a particularly heavy box of files off the floor - he tried to hide it, face turned away and the occasional popping of bones concealed by the clear of his throat, but you noticed. You tentatively questioned him about it one late evening, not wishing to pry more than he was comfortable with. He seemed embarrassed by your attentiveness but didn't deny it, hands clasped and pulling on his long fingers in a nervous habit. He revealed to you that the current brand of healing magic and medicine could do very little for his deteriorated state, the effect was not potent enough or so it seemed. The fact didn't sit right with you, and you decided in your mind that you could multitask.

Your research prolonged, and your frustrations grew as the answer to your questions evaded you. You began to spend more time in your office than in your pristine afforded apartment, head buried in books and rushed consultations between experts in the department. Your obsessiveness seemed to grow, and with it your attention to your health lessened, overtaken by a constant hunger for answers. That hunger seemed to replace your baser instincts however, and one particularly busy day the consequences of your declining attention to your physical state seemed to catch up with you.

 You had been on your way to another scheduled meeting with an on site surgeon, carrying a closed file with a hurried pace, you were far too absorbed in your head to notice the shake of your own fingers, or the way the corners of your vision blurred. You were so absorbed in fact, that you didn't even notice the sudden approach of Dusk from the hall across from you. You had ran right into him, nose buried in the plush of his sweater as you had your senses knocked right out of you. The contact didn't even phase him, and he had caught you by the forearm to steady you. You had apologized, noting how it was unlike you to be so distracted in your surroundings. He hadn’t seemed to mind, his large eyelight coming to a soft focus on the point of contact with your arm. 

The force of your run in with him had knocked the file you were carrying onto the ground however, and as you leaned down in your hurry to grab it the world around you spun. You lost your bearings, and your vision turned to black as you fainted, vaguely aware of the pull of someone's arms around you.

You had woken up in one of the medical rooms, an IV in your arm and a growing headache in the corner of your mind. Dusk was there too, hunched in an office chair that was far too small for his hulking frame, you would have laughed - if you hadn't felt like shit at the time that is. Your movement seemed to wake him from his zoning out, and he had leveled you with a look that you couldn't readily discern - something of a mix between worry, scrutiny and confusion. The doctor on hand had walked in to check up on you, cautioning you to pay better attention to your health, you had felt like a child, embarrassed with your own state. Dusk had sat silent next to your bed while you were being discharged, and as you stood to leave with an order to go home and get some rest from the doctor, he stood with you.

The skeleton escorted you home, a silent but unmistakable presence at your side and as you were ready to thank him and say your goodbyes at your door, he had asked you when you had last gotten something to eat - you couldn't give him a straight answer. 

He had pushed his way inside your temporary home then, and you questioned him in your confusion as he opened your fridge to find it mostly empty, he clicked his tongue, a low growling hum from the pit of his ribs as he pushed you down on your couch with a stern order to ‘wait here’

He blinked out of existence then, returning after a while with a greasy bag of food and he urged you to eat, pushing the bag in your lap despite your urge of protests. You complied, silently eating under the watchful eye of his softly dilated gaze.

From then on Dusk began to visit your office on a regular basis, bringing both you and Twilight regular meals and spending his time lounging in one of the bigger chairs available at the time, idly flipping through books. His presence seemed to anchor you, and often he knocked you out of your hyper focused state with a random pun or an offhand comment about the weather. It worked, your urgency had stilled to a healthy normal, mind clearer as both brothers had now taken to paying a keen interest in your physical condition. You still remembered the frantic lecture Twilight had given you after your little trip to the emergency room. He had begun to limit your time in the office after that, setting a healthy time table with a balanced schedule for both rest and work.

The growing connection between the three of you was plain as day, and as days passed you began to find the answers you were so desperately looking for. It was a regular day in the office when you finally solved the mystery - a calm afternoon spent in a comfortable conversation with the brothers over a cup of tea and some snacks Twilight had graciously shared. You had been brainstorming with the brothers, shooting off your theories for plausible causes when Dusk piped in with something that caught your attention. 

You almost dropped the cup of tea you had been idly cradling in your hand. Jumping up to your feet in a newly discovered frenzy, you rifled through a box of files that had been offhandedly pushed to the side, and as you flipped through a particular heavy file about dietary needs it was then that it hit you, something so simple and so overlooked - of course Dusk would have been the one to point it out. Your grin was almost manic in its excitement as the puzzle pieces finally clicked into place, and you turned to the brothers that had gathered behind you in their confusion. You pulled each of them down by their faces, placing a loud smack of your lips on both of their foreheads and watched their faces glow warm as you called them both a genius. You rushed out of the office, missing exchanged looks of embarrassment - eager to share and confirm your discovery.

It was simple really, so easy to miss in all the confusion of the spatial rift and the ongoing process of integration. It was the food that was making the monsters so sick and riddled with anxiety. Coming from a reality here there had been a significant shortage of food - the first response of the healthier populace had been to feed them, feed them as much as they wanted to eat, it was natural really. Except monster food - magical in nature had high levels of energy, too high for a population of monsters that had been previously so deprived of sustenance. It made their magic run rampant, fluctuate in its intensity with high highs and even lower lows. It was the same in humans, eating too much after starving made the patient sick and would effectively do more harm than good. The answer was right there all along, and you cursed yourself at not seeing it sooner.

Things moved quickly after that, you wasted no time to form a plan of order for a change in provisions, something less straining, human food imbued with magical properties was the natural choice. It would take time for the monster's conditions to stabilize, but after a few days on the new program you began seeing positive results. You had reported your success to the royal family and Toriel had once again summoned you for a showing of your solution. If things went as predicted, the rebuffed population would soon show results of steady improvement, they would finally be prime and ready for the further relocation process.

The queen had thanked you for your service and had shown you a rather unexpected act of kindness in doing so, inviting you over to her rooms for a private tea party where you both conversed not like high mage and ruler, but as two troubled souls with the weight of the world on each of your shoulders. It was pleasant, if not a bit awkward on your part, but Toriel seemed to have a knack for making someone feel welcome.

It was a couple of days before your departure that you had invited the skeleton brothers to your apartment for a celebration dinner, you had surprised them with a meal of your own making. Expertly following the guide of their new diet you had imbued it with your own magic, the fact seemed to fluster the brothers for some reason, but they were unwilling to comment as to the reason why. 

The evening trailed off in shared conversation, and as the hour grew late, the mood slightly sombered, it seemed like both Twilight and Dusk had something they had been meaning to confess for a while now, but it had never seemed like the right time. You had a feeling you knew what it was about - they weren't aware of just how much you knew about their past -you had been pretending to be a high ranking inspector after all, a secret as big as alternate realities wouldn't be handed off to someone as low down the hierarchy as that.

It was then that they opened up to you, a cautious whispered admission of their past sins, sins bred out of desperation and grief. In a moment of your own vulnerability you told them you knew, you knew and understood. You reassured them that it didn't change your opinion of them, you shared gentle words of encouragement, soft admissions of your own grief filled memories. 

You would not judge them for their past, because you saw in them a desperate wish for a better life, a fragile hope that they could learn to become monsters capable of loving themselves. 

Perhaps it was wrong, out of all the people in the world it was you who were the greatest threat to their continued existence. You realized you held their fragile future in your scarred hands, and decided to trust in the goodness in their souls.

[leonardcohenofficial]

okay i'm gonna pause in a second but for the it's about old friends obsessed ass website how are we not understanding the depth of cobel and hampton's relationship as perhaps being more than a ship appearing out of nowhere like given the depth of their relationship (which i think was established effectively in the thirty seven minute run time of this episode) let's just think about why narratively speaking cobel might have chosen to kiss him like this isn't even a defending the straights moment this is a hmm might this kiss have meaning beyond a romantic bent or is that too advanced a concept moment

[rogdona]

[volcanicsleep]

i've been havin' mega hard art block the past month hsdajidbsi, but i managed this which is nice

[siyuri]

Ef's moment of respite at the bottom of the Mariana Trench from amazing story Falling Falling Stars by @not-poignant

[itsthatlake]

Shen Yuan transmigrated as a Spirit Cat AU (part 2)

First chapter.

---

The rest of the examination, all dutifully narrated by Mu Qingfang, passed in something of a blur comprised mostly of internal screaming and a great deal of cursing, and he only came back to reality when he was picked up by a pair of warm hands.

Shen Yuan flinched and looked up at the man who could only be Liu Qingge, the War God of Bai Zhan and older brother of Best Wife, Liu Mingyan. Living proof that this was a time before the protagonist joined Qing Jing Peak.

Liu Qingge died by Shen Qingqiu’s hand sometime around then, after all.

“Come on,” he said, easily settling Shen Yuan on the crook of his arm and starting to walk like this was an established routine of many years instead of something that had happened twice so far and once under duress.

Distracted as he was, Shen Yuan didn’t bother to question it until they were already flying on— on Cheng Luan again. This sword was as cool as he had imagined, now that he looked at it properly. He smacked Liu Qingge’s arm with his paw until he got his attention, then meowed in question.

Liu Qingge stared for a second before seemingly realizing what he was asking.

“We’re going to see the sect leader, Yue Qingyuan,” he explained. “I need to give him my mission report. And inform him of your presence on the mountain.”

“Meow?”

“Cang Qiong has a rule about bringing in any Spirit Cats that we find. For protection,” Liu Qingge clarified, giving him an unreadable look. “There aren’t many left, so Spirit Cats sell high in many circles. None that our sect supports, of course.”

Huh. Shen Yuan hadn’t known that, even after jogging his memory post realizing which world this is.

He remembered Colored Claw Spirit Cats being mentioned in one of the later chapters of PIDW, something about how they had all gone extinct because of human greed and whatnot. He thinks it might have been wife #629 who complained about how tragic it was to Luo Binghe before the protagonist comforted her with his tried-and-true heavenly pillar. In hindsight, that was probably the last bit of actual worldbuilding Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had given them before deciding to write terrible papapa and needlessly convoluted harem shenanigans for the next sixty or so chapters before the end of the novel.

What Shen Yuan hadn’t known, however, was that Cang Qiong Mountain Sect actively rescued and protected Spirit Cats. Of course, with the sect long since destroyed and most of the Peak Lords dead or integrated into the harem and promptly abandoned, there was no reason whatsoever for that to come up at that point in the novel.

Regardless, it was an interesting detail of this world, as well as an incredibly convenient fact for him now.

“Liu Qingge,” Liu Qingge said abruptly. Shen Yuan blinked at him, watching the red slowly creep up his ears with slight fascination. Woah. He even blushed prettily, how unfair. “My name. It’s Liu Qingge. I realized I didn’t introduce myself earlier.”

Oh, that was very polite of him. Which was a little strange coming from the guy who chased him through a village for almost four hours earlier that day and who he just saw kick his shidi’s office door in for no real reason. Shen Yuan huffed, then rubbed his face on the man’s arm, purring pleasantly.

“Hmm. Do you have a name?”

“Meow!”

“I see.”

What do you see? Shen Yuan wanted to ask, genuinely confused as to what Liu Qingge thought he understood. Alas, for lack of the vocal cords necessary for human speech, he just settled back down instead and decided to enjoy the ride.

Flying was kind of fun, he was learning.

---

Yue Qingyuan met Shen Yuan’s sudden presence on his mountain with a not inconsiderable amount of polite confusion.

Then, after Liu Qingge explained the situation, including the results of Mu Qingfang’s examination that Shen Yuan had missed almost entirely and was thus glad to hear summarized now, the sect leader just rolled with it with as much grace as his character in the novel took anything unrelated to Shen Qingqiu.

So far, Shen Yuan’s first impression of the sect leader was very much in line with what he already knew from PIDW.

Afterwards, Yue Qingyuan helpfully elaborated on Cang Qiong’s policy on Spirit Cats that Liu Qingge had mentioned earlier. Apparently, the claws of adult Spirit Cats sold very high among a significant number of cultivator circles because of their special properties, and the declawed creatures were usually sold as ‘exotic pets’ to nobles, where they would inevitably die from either improper care or health issues brought on by the loss of their claws. If caught by the wrong people, young Spirit Cats like himself would most likely be caged and tortured to quicken the awakening of their special abilities.

Because of this massive traffic that was both somehow legal and absolutely horrid to think about, the number of Spirit Cats left had been on the decline for many decades now, and none had reached a point in their cultivation where they could take a human form in over three centuries, as far as anyone was aware.

Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, as well as a number of other sects, strictly forbade the abuse of Spirit Cats and the use of their claws to further their cultivation, as well as offered sanctuary for any that they found in the wild or rescued.

“It has been many years since the last time a Spirit Cat resided in Cang Qiong,” Yue Qingyuan said regretfully, tone somber. “When this lord was still head disciple, he had the privilege to meet with one. Master Zhou’s meridians had unfortunately been crippled before he came to our sect, so he never managed to cultivate to a human form despite achieving immortality. This one was told that he was the youngest of a trio of siblings who were rescued together, but that his older sisters had already been declawed and thus did not manage to survive long even in our care. Lan Qingyi, the current Lord of the Shan Shou Peak, was the one who took care of Master Zhou during his final years.”

Listening to Yue Qingyuan’s recounting felt like a bucket of cold water had been dropped on him. All the terrible, horrible things that had made PIDW’s worldbuilding engaging were now real. It was his reality, and that of the people who were here now and had been here before him. The reality of Master Zhou who in the end was unable to reach Ascension, of his sisters who suffered so much and died long before their time. It caused Shen Yuan’s fur to stand on end as he listened to the sect leader speak.

However.

It also felt a little bit like hope. Because, see, for every trafficker out there, for every cruel bastard out to get his kind, there was also a person willing to protect them. Willing to give Spirit Cats a place where they could grow and live peacefully. 

And those people were here, in Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, offering him that help now as well.

Huan Hua Palace, on the other hand, was perfectly fine with capturing Spirit Cats and using them as they saw fit. There were even rumors that the Old Palace Master had kept one or two declawed Spirit Cats as pets not so long ago.

Needless to say, Shen Yuan had dodged a massive bullet there. It was nothing short of a miracle that Liu Qingge was the one the villagers asked for help and not a cultivator from Huan Hua Palace, seeing as it was literally their territory.

Shen Yuan had seen Huan Hua Palace disciples flying around, for fuck’s sake.

Liu Qingge’s other hand had come up to rest lightly on top of him at some point during the story and Shen Yuan silently leaned into it, rubbing his cheek against his palm in an instinctual, soothing motion as he tried to burrow his body deeper into the crook of his arm.

“This conversation has taken a dark turn, my apologies,” said Yue Qingyuan softly, when the silent became too heavy. “I’m afraid that this topic is not one that can be avoided for long and it is better to be aware of the dangers sooner rather than later. This master would like to formally extend Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s protection to the esteemed spirit, as well as an invitation to stay here for however long he wishes.”

Shen Yuan meowed quietly in agreement, and watched as the sect leader smiled gently at him. Then the man nodded, reaching for a brush and some paper.

“We’ll need to record your arrival and arrange everything for your stay,” he informed them. Even if the heavy thoughts lingered in his mind, for now the dark atmosphere seemed to have lifted as they moved onto another topic, for which Shen Yuan was grateful.

Yue Qingyuan paused, as if only now remembering something, and looked up at them curiously.

“Ah. We require a name for the paperwork. Since it was Liu-shidi who found and brought him to the sect, perhaps he could name the esteemed spirit as well?”

Without a moment of hesitation, Liu Qingge shook his head.

“He already has a name,” he informed solemnly.

“Oh?” Yue Qingyuan raised his eyebrows, looking expectantly at him. Shen Yuan also stared, wondering what he would answer. He obviously never told him his name and he was certain that the War God couldn’t read minds.

(Well. Mostly certain, anyway. Great Master Airplane was hardly reliable when it came to developing characters who weren’t wives or Luo Binghe past a certain point in the novel, or any characters at all past another point just slightly ahead in the novel, and Shen Yuan wouldn’t be surprised if he’d somehow forgotten to mention such an important aspect of this awesome character that he’d killed off-screen.

Would he be angry? Of course. Disappointed by the wasted potential? Most definitely. But surprised? After reading that whole godawful story? Ha! As if. Shen Yuan knew exactly what he was in for when he paid for each chapter.)

“He did not tell me what it is,” said the man who, as expected, could not read minds.

Liu Qingge! Shen Yuan cried in his mind, a little exasperated.

“Ah. Of course,” said the sect leader, smiling politely at both of them. He looked like he wanted to sigh but was too polite to do so and had instead defaulted to smiling. “However, I still need a name for the report. Until he can tell us his name, how does the esteemed spirit feel about having a nickname?”

Liu Qingge frowned at the same time that Shen Yuan perked up.

“A nickname?”

“Yes. Something simple and easy to remember that we can use in the meantime.”

Shen Yuan meowed pointedly, tapping Liu Qingge in the arm. The man just stared back silently, clearly deep in thought, before he nodded.

“The children at the village called him Xiao Maomi,” he declared.

“Xiao Maomi?” Yue Qingyuan repeated, looking at Shen Yuan for confirmation.

Shen Yuan considered it. It was very on the nose for a nickname, likely because it was a bunch of little kids who thought of it in the first place, but ‘little kitty’ wasn’t too terrible all things considered. He could have gotten stuck with a name like Doudou or Danhuang. Now that would have been embarrassing.

Therefore, he meowed positively. It was only temporary anyways so he didn’t care much.

Yue Qingyuan smiled politely, reaching for a brush. “Very well. We’ll put ‘Xiao Maomi’ down in the paperwork for now. It can always be changed at a later date.”

While Yue Qingyuan wrote, Shen Yuan looked up at Liu Qingge, considering. Then he wiggled out from under Liu Qingge’s hand, earning himself a curious look that he ignored, and used his claws to quickly climb up his arm and settle on the man’s shoulder, head resting on the collar of his robes.

The reason why the children of the village had taken to calling him ‘little kitty,’ as opposed to only ‘kitty,’ was immediately obvious to anybody with working eyes. This body of his was quite small even for an average cat’s, even a kitten’s, which had worked in his favor while he was sneaking around the village and against him during fights.

Shen Yuan had originally attributed this to a lack of proper nutrition coupled with a young age, but even after months of stealing food he remained around the same size. Now he wondered if maybe it had something to do with him being a Colored Claw Spirit Cat. He made a mental note to find more information on them later.

Right now, however, his small body meant that he was the perfect size to lay down on Liu Qingge’s shoulders and not have to worry about falling, something he intended to take full advantage of.

Liu Qingge huffed quietly, but made no moves to stop Shen Yuan.

Eventually, the sect leader set down his brush and looked back at them with a considering expression.

“In regards to Maomi-xiansheng’s new living arrangements,” he began lightly. “Normally, all Spirit Cats would be sent to the Shan Shou Peak where they’d be able to settle down and live their lives comfortably. However, Peak Lord Lan is currently in seclusion, and this master is uncertain whether any of her disciples are equipped to house and care for Maomi-xiansheng, as they are all quite young and inexperienced still.”

Ah, Shan Shou Peak, the Beast Taming Peak. One of many places that only got one or two lines when Luo Binghe joined and later destroyed Cang Qiong in PIDW. Shen Yuan had always been curious about this particular peak and all the (obviously wasted) potential it held, something he had ranted about on many occasions in the comment section. Infuriatingly, that hack author had once replied to one of his comments with, “okay okay chill dude, I’ll describe more of the sect in the next chapter,” and then spent six whole paragraphs describing Xian Shu Peak’s bathhouse and all the shijies in it.

Shen Yuan had never genuinely considered murder in his past life, but by god did he get close that day. He was sure his comment, written in a fugue state of pure rage, had reflected that.

“Doesn’t Lan Qingyi have Hall Masters on her peak?” Liu Qingge said, and though Shen Yuan couldn’t exactly see his expression from his position, he got the impression that the man was scowling as he said that.

“I believe they are occupied caring for all the creatures already in-house and teaching the disciples during Lan-shimei’s absence,” Yue Qingyuan answered, tone as close to exasperated as possible while still remaining polite. “Lan-shimei’s approach to her duties as Peak Lord is very different to Liu-shidi’s, after all.”

Shen Yuan had no idea what that was about, but he could almost feel the self-restraint it took Liu Qingge not to huff. The sect leader continued before he could question it.

“Nonetheless, with Shan Shou Peak not being an option, Maomi-xiansheng will need another place to stay, at least until Lan-shimei is back. Since it was Liu-shidi who brought him here, perhaps he wouldn’t mind housing Maomi-xiansheng until then?”

“En,” Liu Qingge nodded, after a moment of thought. “I do not mind.”

Yue Qingyuan smiled in response.

“Thanking shidi.”

And thus, Shen Yuan moved in with Liu Qingge.

[somegrumpynerd]

Had a cool idea for an askblog type thing, might do that someday if I'm less scared

[bricky-brikson]

The Axolotl is a being associated with death, the afterlife, and rebirth, guiding souls through to the other side and helping them reincarnate. (As far as I can find) Xolotl, the god for which the animal is named, is a psychopomp as well. Dogs, the animal he's associated with, are guides for spirits in the underworld. Additionally, he protects the sun every night as it travels through the underworld, a cyclical cycle of "death" (setting sun) and "rebirth" (rising sun). Sounds similar huh?

This makes me wonder: in the Gravity Falls universe, did mesoamericans know of The Axolotl ? Which name came first ? Did mesoamericans have the god Xolotl, made contact with The Axolotl, and give it that name ? Or did they have contact with The Axolotl, and from there it became Xolotl ? I feel like it's not a coincidence that The Axolotl and Xolotl share similar roles AND are etymologically related AND of all the things it could've looked like, it looked like an axolotl from Earth.

I just think it would be interesting...we know Bill has had impacts on human religions and civilizations, so why not other powerful beings? How might've The Axolotl contacted humans in the first place?

If you're knowledgeable about indigenous mesoamerican religions and this is inappropriate/inaccurate let me know and I'll edit or take it down.

[okalanissolis]

⌖ ๋࣭ ⭑♚₊🗡 ๋࣭ ꜱᴇᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ

ᴀ ᴄᴇ��ᴇꜱᴛɪᴀʟ ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ᴀ.ᴜ.

⌖ ๋࣭ ⭑♚₊🗡 ๋࣭ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ๋࣭🗡₊♚⭑ ๋࣭⌖

ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ɪꜱ ᴄᴏɴꜱɪᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ . . .

pt. ii | | series masterlist

focus on: muni sarang (diane meunier), choi san, & song deokhee word count: ~4.6k warnings: language, intermittent Lore Dumping™, mentions of violence, occasional graphic imagery, mentions of semi-main character death, Even More Gods Are Introduced and i think that is lovely

ᴛᴄᴅᴜ (ᴛᴏᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴏʟᴜᴛᴇᴅ, ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ) ɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ !

⌖ ๋࣭ ⭑♚₊🗡 ๋࣭

lilo's mic: still knee deep in history but with more character introductions! i think at some point i might do a character recap page where i can offer some quick stats about the character's strengths and role, but idk if it would be helpful or just another way that i Procrastinate™ — let me know your thoughts !

⌖ ๋࣭ ⭑♚₊🗡 ๋࣭

⌜ my girl pinched my hips to see if i still exist / i think not ⌟

ꜱᴇᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ ๋࣭🗡₊♚⭑ ๋࣭⌖

— ʜᴀᴇᴍᴏ ᴘᴏʀᴛ was the main harbour of hoku city. home to the oldest and most robust working port on the island, the leeward side of the city was often referred to as haemopu side — an amalgamation of the names ʜᴀᴇᴍᴏꜱᴜ, the god of light and namesake of haemo port; and ᴋᴀᴘᴜ: sacred, taboo, forbidden. it was an unspoken rule that the shadows that danced on haemopu side were all puppets of that power known as serpens, and if you saw their strings or witnessed their plays, you would keep quiet, or your days were numbered — your gift from samgong through.

— still, haemo port was vast and wide, and business had to keep. it wasn't particularly bad luck to be a shop stationed near haemo port: there was so much foot traffic there, so many lives crossing back and forth, still hungry to survive; the best of money could be found for those who dared haemopu and kept their sight where it belonged — out of their eyes and in the open hands of hoku — or so the urban prayer went.

to the untrained eye, haemo port and ʜᴀᴇꜱᴜ ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ (the road that led to the devouring mouth of it) were the same as any other harbour on the island: only slightly more complicated than the sum of their intricately stacked, labyrinthine parts; bathed in light by enormous streetlamps so that when the sun went down, the majesty of ʀᴀᴋᴇᴛᴜ, night, couldn't be the refuge with which spirits attempted to thwart demons. but the fangs of some serpents still found their venomous purchase, and the storefronts along haesu street were often just that — fronts. legitimate stores, but facades for things still sinister, sliding their way through the waters, encircling your world, whole.

— on the furthest place inland haesu street ever went, there was an old business complex that had stood so long the original signage was lost and along with it, the precedent name. haemo complex, haesu park, haemo plaza, haemopu ether — old things have many names, and in legend, the many named becomes gods. inside the six story building, shops and establishments checked in and out like aimless souls in a graveyard: some lingered, some faded, some lasted the test of time.

on the first floor of haesu complex stood a taekwondo studio.

next to it, an indoor shooting range.

— we start this story with the taekwondo studio — the dojang, where mountains go to be edified and pupils to be fortified. eventually, we will open the door to see what is made with bullets and loose gunpowder, but for now, we take an abrupt turn right, through the third set of doors on the ground floor.

ᴄʜᴏɪ ᴊᴇᴏɴɢᴄʜᴇᴏʟ, father of one, was the owner of the modest studio: a stern man with a compassionate underbelly, a fourth dan black belt and the first sabeom — teacher — to enter the business complex. in the early days, when he was newly teaching and the world was more cruel and wanton than it ought, he orchestrated and ran illegal fights in the backmost part of his dojang. necessity begged it; life forced his unwavering hand. he'd never been proud, but he stood in his choices steadfast, and if you only saw the whole of him from an angle upturned and below, it seemed the might of him was his honor, unmarred.

dealing in entertainment and prestige, jeongcheol made ends meet in the evening to bring necessities and opportunity to his wife and newborn son at dawn, and by noon, instill dreams in the children that called him sabeom, center of their budding confidence.

when the serpens found out about his midnight habits, they paid a prompt price for front row tickets. by the end of the evening, jeongcheol's rental payments were moved to an account more reliable, and his small family moved out of the back office space and into one of the apartments that sat on the fifth and sixth floors. in exchange, the fights would persist on a grander scale at a more regular schedule ad infinitum, and the serpens would get their due cut.

jeongcheol always knew that this favor would amount to more debt, in the future, but for the security he was promised, in this blood oath? for the advantage and chance he could bestow upon his son? if it were shortsighted and misguided — this business deal with the serpent of the sky — then forgive him, but omniscience was simply the name of his city, not the power in his mind.

— and as san, his darling boy, grew from jeja to seonbae and in the course of time, sabeom all his own — a 3rd dan black belt and the pride of jeongcheol's world — the price of a demon's mercy became ever clearer, crystalizing into the certainty of future: law.

— it was in that very dojang, after all, that jeongcheol added to his myriad of students two young girls: diane and soyeon, dawn and dusk. jeja diane, a student named wisdom, took early to sparring with san, never minding that the younger always won, ever scheming to learn from a protégé's skill.

when san was chosen to be the demon heir's protector, it wasn't a matter of surprise or honor, simply that of providence.

and san was dignified by it, at any rate.

— only ever envisioning an inherited taekwondo studio for himself, a modest future but fulfilling dream, san's world expanded at the hands of diane — and his dojang, while still being the center of all his tethered existence, was a future now shared. ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ, a pupil and friend, would aid him in handling the fights in the backmost part all of his father's hope and shame, an eternal rite, the sisyphean promise the choi family would never complete.

— jeongcheol had slowly backed away from the uglier side of his business as he aged into complacency and fatigue, and san had taken up the mantle in his place. now, sin would beget sin and shackled to the serpens would be yet another soul.

yeo was clear that he didn't mind.

already one foot into corruption, what was one more leg?

— he'd been cleaning up bruises from betting fights and broken limbs from shadow duels for years. he'd sewn flesh together the way others might knit tenderness and virtue, goodness and love.

every dojang needed it's medic. and every medic needed his charge.

— this was merit enough, for the both of them. respect for san in being trusted with something on which the whole of the underworld revolved; prestige for yeosang in the power inherent of a ruling head of a domain long standing, and in it's ancience, revered.

and watching them both, once the hand that led them deep into the mouth of something ravenous, still, stood choi jeongcheol, left wondering when security was no longer security — a promise no longer words of honor.

ꜱᴇᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ ๋࣭🗡₊♚⭑ ๋࣭⌖ ᴄᴏɴᴛ.

— diane had asked him to disappear, again.

— it was never an explicit demand, not since the first time, when she'd been following the tail of a banker and realized it would be so much easier to approach him if she were just a woman and not a daughter, held.

the nameless banker had decided he no longer wished to be a pigeon fed from an opened hand but a raven shot out of the sky, the shiny things he stole slipping from his traitor beak and landing back into the hand of the power that wielded the shotgun evermore.

— "you're intimidating, san." and it hadn't been her words or the command in her eye so much as it was a shift in her being — sarang to diane, veracity to something mutable and ever brewing. "i need to ensnare him..."

and he'd slipped away, taken her half-cue and was already gone.

— if the demon of hoku knew how often diane asked him to slip away, san was sure the mythic ernest would be none too pleased. it takes half a second for malignance to seize you in hoku city, and only a fraction of that if you're particularly inclined. of course, san was never far, and sarang more competent than what the wills of well meaning fathers offered her, but it would be more than just san's immortal soul on the line if something befell her and he were at all still breathing.

but it was always sarang's eyes that sought for the mercy of him, in the hairbreadth turn of her infinitesimal micro-expression, the graceful warp into something so unseen it were all but hidden to eyes that were any less devoted than his. and it was never a question because she would never need to ask; he'd learned to read the depths of her during sparring sessions in a dojang made of his youth and all his tomorrow. once, he'd crafted alongside her the armor that was so much a second skin, there were barely any joints or seams that one could rub the pad of their thumb along.

he'd seen her, then, and so he always knew.

— and that's how he found himself here, again. vanished from a spot he said he'd always defend: dematerialized, because bang chan had come to call.

— or so diane let the boy think. she'd found chan first, weeks before this encounter he'd name 'chance' or 'fate'. it had been simple to learn his routine and easier to insert herself in it. a coffee shop he always walked past. her new favorite window seat. a position so comfortable it looked as though it had always been.

and so they talked; this woman neither diane nor sarang, crafting a life by degrees of admission, chan warming to the gentle flame of her lies so that eventually, perhaps, knowledge of him would melt, secrets in him slip between them, in this place behind glass, warm between cups of untouched coffee.

not even san would hear the things chan would reveal in his adventurous, half-flirtatious speech. the thought often made the black belt's heart skid — his resolve stutter — but the bulk of him never wavered. he was a mountain and summits never crumbled; their might certainly never moved.

and that simple conflict of interest was something his friends never failed to entertain, and in mocking, enjoy.

— ᴅᴇᴏᴋʜᴇᴇ, twin sister of ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ and the one-minute younger half of their expert gunman team, was the one to first discover san's internal battle, having joked about his affection for diane from his sabeom days at the dojang. first, a true baseless joke, then overtime, a comfortable uncomfortability for san as it grew in truth and size.

san and his diane; no one loved their work the way san did; if san could marry duty he would.

— if he wasn't always looking at deokhee down the barrel of her sniper rifle, he just might knock some humility into her near prophetic teasing and her twin's identical shit eating grin.

but what was he to do when she was, in part, always right?

— sarang laughed at something chan said, and diane reached out to touch his shoulder with the soft of her hand. san turned his gaze, somehow half guilty, and that's when he saw the ephemera of a shadow he should not have.

what was kim hongjoong doing all the way here?

— first order of business would be to pull sarang from the place at which she stood. second would be to see just who the informant whisperer was that hongjoong strove to meet. third would be to evaluate just where that placed this puppet-master of secrets in the ever turbulent waters of organization and fealty — obeisance and axis.

— san was standing in front of her in the coffee shop before the shadow had ever truly dissipated — before any of the prior thoughts had fully formed in his mind.

sarang was good at smoothing her own confusion and concern, and playing the part of the innocent and sheltered. she huffed a convincing sigh and muttered something about a father that, overprotective, cut her time with this young officer short, and san caught the thrown word of 'cousin' like a fire-hot, thousand pound and ever-burning coal.

so that's how she'd explained his presence to chan.

— when she knew she'd almost been caught in the act by hongjoong, sarang swore.

— ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ was a member of the serpens syndicate, and had, since the death of byeonghwa, been the watchful eye that extended past the confines of hoku city. loyal to the demon — a horkos made potent in the poignance of a blood debt — hongjoong was trusted... so far as anyone could be reliable, in this city that ate you whole, in these times that twisted the sinew of your very heart. at any rate, he was an informant of ernest, and while not one nearly as volatile as soyeon, still convoluted in intent.

he would be interested — perhaps even moreso curious than san, who daily burned all of his inquisition and steadfast resolve near through — as to what the demon heir was doing out here, in the pristine half of hoku city, talking with an officer that would just as soon as imprison her, if he knew even a fraction of the atrocities and moral impurities she ordered and aided, abetted and carried out.

— of course, even if hongjoong were to ask, sarang would never tell.

— not even with san, himself, did sarang reveal her true intentions in this business involving newly minted officer bang chan, a rookie at some few years post-graduation, an acquaintance turned friend from their first windfall encounter. not even with san, who knew the verity of sarang and had cherished her humanity from it's first appearance, did she let any information slip, a single hint pass.

he'd look into her eyes and unexpectedly, a wall was there — a guardedness of which he'd never known. she was no longer forthright about all possibilities with him. her thoughts were not so easily read, her want not so readily known.

— but that was not the worry that had the jaw with which to gnaw at san. not yet, anyway. not when hongjoong was surreptitiously on the same path as them, in a place where neither was colloquially seen (his informant hadn't been anyone of note, and so the consequence of his gained knowledge that day couldn't have been much, but one could never be complacent, if they wished to thrive).

— not when soyeon was unhappy, and sarang was the fool to not believe it.

— not when ernest, kingpin of terror, chessmaster of the underworld and ruler of hoku city, was mired in that slow changing-of-hands and place of gentle retreat where all of his speech was about the hand of iku, that terrify in the weight of dying.

the death of a demon was always a wounded threat that demanded first redress.

— it had started, in part, with the death of byeong-hwa. what was a king, after all, when his sworn shield had fallen? what menace was left in a monster, when his right hand was rotting, 6 feet below? the monsoon season would come, and a sickness would plague ernest along with the rain. jangma was the will of bada — the monsoon season the cursing volition of the sea. it was divine law, in some ways, that bada would claim her vengeance on hoku by taking it's epicenter and sweeping it's fortune and prosperity into her tumultuous seas, but it was still too soon, and thus, a secret well hidden.

no one in the serpens outside of the few remaining elders that sat at the demon's table, byeong-hwa's only daughter, his heir, and his warded nephew knew of the state of ernest's true mind.

the tides were swelling, the ground was saturating; bada was clambering toward the city, and at the time least affordable, the cracks between sarang and soyeon's friendship and intertwined lives deepened to a schism, with roots on either side, blooms torn apart, thorns tearing stem like gnashing teeth devouring flesh.

— when it rains, it pours, and in jangma, the storms were violent and unending; when bada raged, all the gods hovered close to witness her torrential price.

— "i'll tell ʏᴜɴʜᴏ." when they were haemopu side, diane turned to san, the silence between them broken, the confidence that always held in it's place perhaps worse for wear, if either of them had the resolve to mention it. "he'll have some clever way to spin hongjoong off our track - if he even saw anything in the first place."

— san nodded: just once, a jerky motion that left this world still buzzing, a dull, low whine.

yunho, sarang's cousin, was a close confidant of theirs. he moved into the serpens complex when he was 17. some commonplace tragedy left him with a want in the pit of his belly, and ever since the breaking down of all that tied sarang to soyeon and night to the dawining day, he had played the role of strategist and pragmatic advisor to his cousin — a safer, less volatile option for diane to pick, considering soyeon had always been her council, former.

— diplomats need their advisors; conmen require their marks. diane had a necessity for yunho and a plan for bang chan, and of course, they would be dealt with first. san was just a bodyguard, and in this way, he'd always known his place. but favor had a way of lead to want, and if he tended to that fire, it could always lick its way past his defenses and consume him whole.

— sarang blinked, and the change pulled san from his thoughts the way it always would. born to serve, her movements were what he'd been shaped to read. "i guess i'll tell hermes that you stood him up for yunho again, when it's time for your 13:00 date and you don't show."

— sarang laughed at that, warm and clear, almost chasing away the mist that had gathered all through the day, at choice intervals and expected alleyways, thickening to the obscurity of fog. hermes was sarang's greyhound — the puppy she'd once found when younger but crowned wise. she never had taken him to the serpens complex, where he could be socialized with the dobermans she'd cared for most her life. instead, san took him in — an act of kindness she never stopped praising him for, never quite forthright about her reasoning but offering just enough to where he was satisfied.

"tell the twins when you see them i need to have a word."

ꜱᴇᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ ๋࣭🗡₊♚⭑ ๋࣭⌖ ᴄᴏɴᴛ.

— the shop never had a name: just a wordless sign in the shape of a generic gun scope: the focus for an eye you'd never look into as you took your final, heaving breath.

the shooting range, the eye, akita's place, the final shop on the ground floor of haemo plaza.

— every child who'd ever touched a gun — any soul who had enough of some small mercy they had the fire to protect it in this heaving city — had, at some point, entered the shooting range that sat haemopu side. established longer than jeongcheol's dojang, but having changed hands at around the same time, the shooting range was owned by a woman named ᴀᴋɪᴛᴀ — ex-military but dishonorably discharged, a mother of twins, and simultaneously warm yet cold: distant, but always manning her station.

it was only natural that, sharpshooter of her squad, akita had taught her children to shoot from the moment their hands had the strength to thumb a trigger.

eyes bred to look at you through the barrel of a firearm, hearts trained to see the liberation at the end of a mission and none of the causalities between. akita took her twins, cradle of her future, and gave them all the skills she broke skin and bruised knuckle to hone. they would never have to struggle, because they would be born with skilled gift. they would have the freedom of honor, because no training would mar their resolve.

— at first, the shooting range was only that which sat within the four walls in the ground floor of that complex. but slowly it expanded: the back property, accessed through the side entrance, narrow but deep, for single sessions with moving targets; the abandoned lot near the docks that akita had come into possession of by chance and was appraising for sale until her daughter showed an aptitude for long range and a spark to pursue it.

before long, what was modest expanded, and with an open mouth, devoured until engorged. the shooting range was well known. beloved. conspicuous. exactly the sort of place one would expect to find a doorway into the depths of a now illegal, though still legitimate syndicate, and therefore, a place where they could never be found. in reverence and renown, akita secured a safe haven for her children, a place where they could rest without the fear of being poached.

two doors down, the serpens paid a lease, but here, in the four walls she maintained, they could never sink in their teeth.

but fate was the domain of samgong, and mischief the trait of hoku, and here, in a city where the presence of gods were only so strong because they were so ceaselessly revered, the two powers often conspired to thwart the dreams of those who dared trying, and those whose complacency masqueraded as crown.

— wooyoung, the older of the twins, was the impulsive to deokhee's passion. touched by caprice, drowning in compulsion — akita whispered into his ear as he grew up, tickling the soft skin hidden there, that he was born the same star sprite as hoku: before he became the omniscient eye, back when he was nameless, and his fervency was tried by the test of his father's tedium. in constant motion, neverending activity: "make no deals with iku, listen not to the obligation of horkos. you are a star, you belong to nothing but your own burn."

— deokhee, of course, was the fire burning her older brother brighter, still, the combustion in his path that kept him from apathy, that saw all his visions through. ᴇɴᴊɪ, her mother would call her, the fire god born into flesh. the ardor, the devotion, the commitment deepening to obsession, the dedication to wooyoung's whims, the conviction in her twin brother's mania. akita adored her daughter's fervency, fanned the flames of her exuberance never quenched. "shackle yourself to no one, my enji, you are not meant to be contained. never turn in on yourself; find a direction to incinerate: you are meant to set this world ablaze."

— avoiding flirtation with the fetters of the serpens was an unspoken request from akita, a desire never plainly raised. if she had been wiser (if she saw all too clearly the way serpents rise to challenge and adaptable, warp their venom to something honey-sweet) perhaps akita would have been more explicit in her demands, exact in all she envisioned and prayed to conspire. but it seemed an evident requirement, a moral anchored deep and in it's inevitability, made potent and strange.

"you are made for more," she had always told them.

but what can be done when your only framework of 'more' and 'greater' is the gunpowder residue of a superior weapon?

— once, akita built her children into crook of a firearm. ever after, they would know mostly it's bitter taste.

— none of this is to say, however, that the twins were a tragedy and their penchant something acrid, lead.

— deokhee was bottled excitement and effervescent joy in every task, and wooyoung the kind of gregarious that surrounded him with enthusiastic friendship and kindred brotherhood in every space he ventured to grace.

— and ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴜᴍɪɴᴀʀʏ was one of those third spaces that wooyoung and deokhee frequented most.

a serpens owned establishment: an electricity plant on the edge of town, with hidden rooms that opened into dark things that could only hide in the shadow of a generator as massive as that which fueled a never-blinking city. the luminary was one of the largest holes in the wall that the serpens ran. there, you could order any sin you could pay the ferryman to usher you to.

(so long as you were in the right room, of course. the serpens liked to keep their messes orderly.)

— the twins mostly frequented the rooms with standard bar fare. alcohol, dance, betting and games of chance, fisticuffs when more than just spirits hit you square in the jaw after one freedom too many. a common enough vice with a burgeoning sea of acquaintances and a militia of contacts and friends. it was here, in the pale of haemosu's light — all the glare they could harness but never reach — that the twin's sociability spun a web that was never meant to entrap them, but still made them the perfect players for a serpent game.

after all, it was in the luminary that the twins aligned themselves with the ꜱᴘɪɴᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ ʙɪᴋᴇʀꜱ.

a group of criminals and delinquents that rode through ꜱᴋɪᴛ — the next door neighbor of hoku city, and the border at which the serpens let their needles halt. the serpens owned hoku, and every gang and group of would-be hopefuls that they'd long run out had taken up station in skit and brawled it out, there. a neighboring city was of no consequence to the serpens as long as they spilled blood on their rightful side of the fault line, and the spine breakers were a fairly established group that worked their own city and only occasionally crossed the borders of hoku — careful to always show their deference and pay their dues. they were a infrequent though to some familiar face in the luminary on nights when the moon hung low, mostly to work deals with the mercenaries for hire in the back, and always to chase a drink alongside the twins.

ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ was their closest companion of the lot, and if his drink of choice was an expected usual, and his uninspired flirtation with deokhee an affectionate and comfortable aside, then the night would be warm and the luminary waitstaff would make better money in tips than they had all month.

— and it was precisely that friendship with jungkook (and perhaps their closeness with san, though why make complicated something already written by fate?), that brought the twins to the serpens those aging years ago.

it had been hongjoong, newly syndicate minted, that noticed these two sparrows who somehow seemed to know everyone he had been keeping his thousand eyes on, and dared to ask himself what use could come with knowing their names.

it had been simple, after, for seonghwa to convince him that wooyoung was the easier approach, and for soyeon to cast the die on his fate.

(but that had been years ago: before the breaking down of factions, before suspicion and envy cast shadows that demons new not how to play, before ties were cut like marionette strings, and seonghwa and soyeon became a duo, and hongjoong, far enough from the barrel to not yet choose how to align, had to keep his ideas in his breast pocket and his lies tucked beneath his tie.)

— in the end, the twins were brought into the serpens because their connections would open doors that had no keys. it was through wooyoung and deokhee that the serpens greedy left hand reached into the heart of skit and, with an emboldened and wanting jungkook, staged a coup and installed this friend as the spine breaker's acting head.

ever after, the bikers would be in debt of the might of hoku, and in perpetuity, there would be scouts and reinforcements should there be need of aid from a distance.

— it was simply providence that the twins would have use beyond their sociability and want. it was the work of that ever mischievous hoku that in a chance encounter and a single ploy, diane was gifted with the two best marksman the city could afford.

danger, of course, in the single-minded passion of deokhee and the brilliant, aimless apathy of wooyoung, but when combined together (and wooyoung under the threat of the only one he swore obeisance to: san), they were a power more than their arsenal, a weapon greater than their might and distant reach.

— when san found the two of them sitting on his couch, deokhee knuckle deep in affectionate rubs for hermes, wooyoung eating noodles out of the pot, on his pinky swinging the apartment's spare key ("for emergencies," san had said, and pointedly handed it to deokhee), there was less a reaction of disappointment or surprise, and more an acceptance that at least this way, the message would be easily delivered, in brevity, made sweet.

"diane's calling."

⌖ ๋࣭ ⭑♚₊🗡 ๋࣭ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ๋࣭🗡₊♚⭑ ๋࣭⌖ pt. ii | | series masterlist

ᴛᴄᴅᴜ (ᴛᴏᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴏʟᴜᴛᴇᴅ, ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ) :

1 - jeongcheol, san's father, used to run a taekwondo studio. because times were hard, he ran illegal fights in the back of his dojang, and when the serpen's found out, they co-opted his business and expanded it. as he got older, he passed down his dojang to san, who now works as the bodyguard of diane. because of his busy schedule, he co-manages the dojang with yeosang, the medic of the taekwondo studio.

2 - the taekwondo studio is situated on haesu street in an unnamed work-live complex often referred to as haemo plaza. on the same floor as the dojang there is an unnamed shooting range, owned by akita, the mother of twin gunman for the serpens deokhee and wooyoung. akita does not know of her children's affiliation with the syndicate and would disapprove if she knew.

3 - san, deokhee, and wooyoung are all friends are are closely allied with diane. diane is also close allies with yunho, her cousin and strategist council after her falling out with soyeon has deepened in the past few years (there has been a vague multi-year time skip from pt. i to pt. ii).

4 - ernest, kingpin of the serpens, is currently dying. it is a well kept secret - but not from soyeon, who diane fears will use this knowledge opportunistically. recently, diane has been keeping many secrets from even her closest confidant, san, especially regarding her consistently visiting officer bang chan, trying to weasel from him secrets... but about what?

5 - hongjoong is a member of the serpens with many secrets and many informants. diane is unsure if, in the power vacuum created after ernest's death, if he will show loyalty towards her or soyeon, and so she is wary of what he knows, when he was in the area as she was meeting up with bang chan.

6 - hongjoong was the one to originally recruit twins deokhee and wooyoung, because they have many contacts in hoku and neighboring cities - notably jungkook, now leader of a biker gang in the neighboring city named skit.

7 - diane has a mission for deokhee and wooyoung heretofore lacking details or rhyme.

now onto pt. iii . . .

[cumplanecrash]

🎼Shizun! 🎵 Babies!🎵 We're taking our Shizuns 🎶 and making them babies!!!🎶

- how the writing is going today lol

[perpetualexistence]

Bad news: I don't think I'm going to be able to write for ever day of TD horror week as I'd originally imagined.

Good news: The days I am going to be part of will be Cooking. I shan't spoil too much about it but one day already has 2.5K words and is only like a fourth of the way done.

[hurricanek8art]

I acknowledged the whole "write the most extremely self-indulgent fic you want, nobody can stop you and it's good for your brain!" advice as good before, because yeah having fun while you write is important! It helps you learn and grow!

But never have I understood it as much as I do now. I managed to cram hyperspecific Jedi lore, hyperspecific kyber crystal and lightsaber construction lore, a new Master/Padawan team figuring out their dynamic, a fun not-SWTOR-canon character that doesn't technically show up at any point in this era of Star Wars but I know exists at this point in Star Wars so I'm seizing the opportunity to use them, and a fanon followup of sorts on one of my favorite Tales of the Jedi (comic) story arcs into this thing. AND I got to write a fight scene that is more or less set to Paramore's Born for This from the Riot! album, which I have ALWAYS wanted to do because it's perfect for one but could never find the right spot to use it until now.

This fic is essentially a 4-episode TCW/Rebels-esque "filler" story arc but set in between the SWTOR 7.3 and 7.4 story updates, packed with the most wildly indulgent KateBait stuff I could possibly fit into it.

I am LIVING here. 🥰

[armandlovesgirlcock]

watching the new live action ATLA and actually i REALLY LIKE some of the changes to sokka.

he's not a lil sexist like he is in the animation but he still has Issues - he actively discourages katara from waterbending because he's so afraid she'll be caught and he seems to think Every Person is his responsibility. He seems both older and younger than show Sokka, he's less cocky because he's so insecure about his abilities but he also relies solely on his own abilities and keeps trying to talk himself up as the Big Leader and Protector of his tribe. It is crunchy good character actually.

his insecurity is what makes his relationship with suki so far actually interesting as well (i'm only halfway thru ep 2 tho so take this analysis with a lil salt). he starts by trying to relate to her as a Warrior and Protector but suki rebuffs him. Later she tries to relate to him by showing off her fighting skills (she is also more flawed in this version imo, which is fun. she doesnt know how to relate to people so she chokes the shit out of him) but this makes him more insecure because all his cockiness and self worth lies in protecting people and this girl is showing him up. both of their insecurities are getting in the way of forming a connection and i look forward to seeing how it's resolved.

He's less "I am the Man of my family since my dad left so i must Protect them even tho i'm just a kid really" and more "I must protect my people and if i fail they will die, therefore I am terrified of being anything less than the perfect leader and warrior"

both are interesting character concepts and i'm actually kind of hyped they changed it slightly, it makes me interested to see where theyre going with this.

[ceiling-karasu]

New Chapter of The Rod That Blocks the Lightning

I also decided that A Meeting in the Tower takes place in the same universe, and included a way to tie it in as a reference.

[cogentranting]

Suits LA is a little rough around the edges, but I think given half a chance it will even out and be a good show.

Already, on episode 2, you can see them finding their footing and working out what distinguishes these characters (from each other and from the original show). Even little things, like changing Ted's style in the secone episode to make it more visually distinct from Harvey's.

[dammek-time]

I know this blog doesn't dwell on canonicity but I thought I'd chew on it anyway. It's the hyperfixation; it calls me.

I like theorizing about the canon Dammek, even if I'm in the minority with my opinions.

I don't know, the fanon perception of Dammek ranges from he's a malevolent twat that levels anyone or anything in his path OR he's a Strider copy. A stoic, wise-cracking asshole.

I don't subscribe to either notion.

He's not stoic as he emotes in every in-game photo or promotional art for Hiveswap. Honestly. I haven't seen a single piece in-game where he's rendered stoic. His lips aren't pursed he wears a shit-eating grin. He's always smiling—quite deviously at that. It's a smirk.

And the former assertion? I... I just don't see him being anything more than a brat? I don't see any evidence he's volatile or a parallel to Karkat Vantas. He never looks angry. He doesn't have resting bitch face.

He has—I just hacked into your computer and siphoned your files—face. If anything, the exposition we get in Hiveswap dictates he's... not physically adept. He's the brain to Xefros' brawn. He's the "ideas" guy. I think he lives vicariously through Xefros. I mean I know this is a bold statement but... I really think he's a lot like Jake.

He yearns for adventure, to be someone's hero, and to swoop in with cunning and bravado. Two of his altered movie posters depict him as the hero type. At most, he wants to be Alternia's savior. At least, I'd wager he wants to save Xefros. I think where the conflict lies is... Xefros isn't a damsel. He's a one-troll army. I believe Dammek covets his moirail's strength; he wants to be like the men in his action movies. So he lives out his fantasies vicariously through Xefros. He arranges obstacles, trials, and the like to satiate his fantasy of being a hero—and Xefros is the collateral.

While Xefros is jumping through the hoops, Dammek’s envy is leading him to develop pitch feelings. He may not like it, but it's there. And I think Xefros knows it because he's too self-aware not to.

But hey, I'm just thinking aloud. Being an introject clouds my opinion a little. I could be wrong! I just wanted to throw it out there. :')